


and so it goes

by falooda



Category: Ensemble Stars! (Video Game)
Genre: Ensemble Cast, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Canon, not-so overt gestures of love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-05
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:34:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 12,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27398062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/falooda/pseuds/falooda
Summary: in which Kaoru introspects too long and too hard, Kanata experiences the epic highs and lows of human existence, Izumi both suffers from love and relishes in it, and Chiaki is Chiaki.
Relationships: Hakaze Kaoru & Morisawa Chiaki, Hakaze Kaoru & Sena Izumi, Hakaze Kaoru/Shinkai Kanata, Morisawa Chiaki & Shinkai Kanata, Morisawa Chiaki/Sena Izumi
Kudos: 13





	and so it goes

**Author's Note:**

> hi! this story is canon divergent in the way that both kaoru & kanata depart from their homes in less than pleasant circumstances, izumi doesn't know niki (it completely slipped my mind they're in the same circle unfortunately), and how everyone has their own apartments now. also i ask that you please suspend your disbelief at how kanata probably knows how to care for an eel on top of his idol duties. i trust him!
> 
> otherwise the story is pretty firmy set in canon, a few years past the current !! events.
> 
> happy (disgustingly late) birthday to izumi & kaoru (& to rei, sorry you didn't feature as much here)!!

_Some things you'll do for money and some you'll do for fun_

_But the things you do for love_

_Are gonna to come back to you one by one_

\- love love love, the mountain goats

* * *

🌊

Kanata has only just made it back home from work and he’s very, very tired. Only the bathtub can bring him peace in this punishing moment of crisis.

“Hello?” He listens contentedly to Kaoru on the phone. He has a very nice conversational voice, pleasant and relaxing to listen to, even if he misses a few words here and there, lost in the hallway.

A few more hurried words that Kanata can’t really catch and the next thing he knows is the door’s thrown open and Kaoru’s smiling even though he looks distressed.

“Ah, Kanata-kun, if you wanted to take a bath, shouldn’t you have taken off your clothes at least?”

Kanata shakes his head. He hadn’t wanted a bath, just some time to be alone with the water.

“It’s just as well, I guess.”

“All good?” Kanata asks. He doesn’t like the wobble in Kaoru's voice.

“Yeah! Yeah. All good. I’m good. Are you good?”

Kanata nods.

“We’re all good then!”

“No,” Kanata insists, “Tell me. About what’s ‘wrong’.”

Kaoru looks at him for a moment and his smile changes, just a little. It’s still serious, Kanata knows this, because he knows Kaoru.

“Want me to wash your hair?” Kaoru doesn’t offer often because he respects Kanata’s water time though Kanata knows if he asked, Kaoru would oblige, pleased and embarrassed in equal measure.

He wriggles out of his sopping wet shirt that Kaoru will hang up to dry later. The first touch is hesitant, always. And then slowly, methodically, Kaoru lathers the shampoo. Kanata doesn’t like sitting still but he lets himself steep in the water, letting it leach out the tiredness.

“Keep your eyes closed,” Kaoru warns, gently massaging his head.

Kanata does as he’s told and hums in satisfaction when the cold water hits the crown of his head. And he waits, waits for Kaoru to tell him what’s on his mind. Talking helps, is what Kanata has found much to his delight and chagrin. He doesn’t always know when to say the right thing or even what he’s feeling sometimes but Kaoru knows this and accepts him anyway. And he wants to do the same in return.

“My brother called,” Kaoru says quietly. “He asked about work and I thought, ‘well, maybe he’s starting to see me as a grown-up’, you know? Like an adult who takes his job and his life seriously. But he didn’t even hear me out. He said the same old things, how I was throwing my life away, how I’d be useless when I finally stop being an idol.”

There’s bitterness in his words that nearly cleaves Kanata’s heart in two. 

“But you are ‘here’ now, Kaoru. This is your life. And there are people you know who love you for you,” he struggles to find the words, “These are your ‘decisions’ to live by, so even if you fall, you know it was your choice.”

He grabs the front of Kaoru’s shirt, afraid that Kaoru wouldn’t understand what he meant. “You are not ‘alone’.”

Kaoru stares at him for a handful of seconds when he’s done. Finally, he quirks a small smile. “You’re more trouble than you’re worth, you know Kanata-kun? You always know what to say.”

He tucks away the hair that's sticking to Kanata’s forehead and kisses the top of his head lightly.

“We should make fish for dinner, right?”

⚔️

Izumi’s apartment in Florence—the one just outside the city centre, where if he looked out the living room window, opened to sunrise over the river—is carefully put together. It has all the comfort of steel beams and dark hardwood floors, windows that let in broad strokes of sunlight pouring into the lap of splendour. He’s here between four to six months of the entire year, and it’s perfect for what he’s used to. Save for how it feels somewhat incomplete when he returns here from Japan.

Conversely, Chiaki’s apartment—a cozy two-bedroom affair tucked away behind a nondescript white wall of windows, a handful of blocks down from Ensemble Square—is always objectively a mess. The lighting is awful, firstly, and you couldn’t move an inch past the entryway without bumping into something that would inevitably result in a tokusatsu flavoured pile on the floor.

Izumi had refused to enter that house more than once.

“But it’s _our_ apartment now,” Chiaki had reminded him, frowning, “Come on, I even cleared out the shelves. It’s clean now, I promise!”

“And where did you put the things that were on the shelves?”

“In the cupboard,” Chiaki says brightly, like that was the explanation Izumi had been lacking.

When Chiaki had generously proposed that Izumi live with him in the time he spent in the country instead of leasing another apartment or rooming in the dorms, Izumi had countered with all the ways he could to shoot down the idea—there wasn’t enough space, they’d be horrible housemates, and just because they’d been dating for a little while now, isn’t it sort of ridiculous to expect they’d get along in every aspect of their lives? Weren’t they going a little too fast?

Chiaki had brushed these concerns off and rebutted loudly, and with uncommonly good sense. It wasn’t like Izumi didn’t want this, didn't want to see Chiaki sitting in his pyjamas, watching Ultraman while eating the terrible takeout salad they’d picked up on the way back from work. It’s not like he didn’t want Chiaki’s smile to be the first thing he sees every morning for the rest of his life. But that was another conversation entirely, one he’s going to stuff deep down his throat, so it never sees the light of day.

And even so, in the end, Izumi had lost. Which was fair, considering he hadn’t stood a chance the moment he’d chosen to reckon with one Morisawa Chiaki.

All said and done, Izumi wasn’t particularly happy with Chiaki’s sense of aestheticism and appreciation for the finer things in life—like not lining the Kiramager Sentai plushies on the dining table. If this was his house now, Izumi reasoned, he was allowed a say in interior decor, too. Difficult problems required creative solutions and over the course of several painful weeks, despite Chiaki’s protests that he could do it himself, he and Chiaki had transformed the space to showcase Chiaki’s love for heroes instead of letting it take over his life.

“Hi! Come on in!” Chiaki’s voice carries into the kitchen. Izumi expects this is Kanata and Kaoru, and right on time, too, just when he’s done with the dishes.

“Wow, Chiaki this is so ‘nice’,” Kanata says, looking around at the shelves and glass cabinets with a growing smile.

"Way more tasteful than the last time we dropped by, Moricchi, what's with the change of heart?" Kaoru says, looking right at Izumi, who wishes he could sock that smile off his face, but he knows Chiaki and Kanata wouldn't appreciate a fight, so he chooses to be the mature adult that he is.

"Izumi helped me with it," Chiaki admits. "We live together now!"

Several beats of silence pass before Kaoru breaks the spell. "We brought some fish, tell us all about it over dinner."

Dinner is lively and fun despite all the pointed looks Kaoru throws his way. Izumi has never really taken Kaoru seriously in all the time they’ve known each other and he suspects the feeling is mutual.

But he does suspect that Kaoru is serious when he asks him about Chiaki.

“So. Are you alright?”

And for the life of him Izumi can’t figure out what he means. There’s too many variables Kaoru likes to play at once and Izumi hates not knowing where he stands in conversation, even if it is only with him. He rolls his eyes.

“Just spit it out already,” Izumi says. There’s no heat, of course, just a facade of bored nonchalance that he knows will rub Kaoru the wrong way. This is just how they are, how they’ve spent the majority of the time they’ve known one another. Izumi wouldn’t have it any other way..

“You and Moricchi, I mean. You’re sure everything’s fine?”

Izumi considers this. He’d never have given it away himself so it must mean Kaoru is more perceptive than he’d given him credit for. All those years of being classmates had really paid off in his favour.

“It’s fine,” Izumi admits finally, begrudgingly realising there wasn't any point in resisting the question. “It really is. And, like you said, it’s Chii-kun, what can you even do, right?”

Kaoru hums thoughtfully in response, like he’s really thinking about his answer and the tension Izumi's been holding recedes. He’d thought about this every single day since he’d acknowledged his feelings, long before he’d even started acting on them. But he’d definitely thought about it, his life—their life together, between their jobs demanding most of their time and attention, and the other half spent thinking about their jobs, planning, practicing, preparing for the next thing coming their way.

It’s nothing he can’t handle and besides, he trusts Chiaki, and trusts that Chiaki believes in him, too.

There’s a hand on his shoulder, warm and reassuring, though Izumi doubts it means little more than something to break the awkwardness in their silence.

Maybe Kaoru isn’t half bad when he’s being genuine. Best to not let him become self-aware, then.

Izumi takes it back the second he turns around to look for a tupperware box he could offer to them to take home the curry he’d made for dinner in, when Kao-kun yells, “Moricchi, did you know Senacchi is in love with you?!”

He leans in to whisper conspiratorially, “I don’t really do hugs but you looked like you needed one just now.”

And just like that, Izumi’s swept up into a hug, a dramatically teary-eyed Chiaki saying he loved him back just as much, if not more. With Kanata and Kaoru doing their traitorous little high five in the corner, this really feels like an attack on all fronts that he gives in to all the same.

🥞

Hakaze Kaoru is no stranger to the fine art of lying to oneself. In fact, he's gotten so good at it, there was a point in his life he couldn't tell his own authentic smiles from faked ones.

All was well, there was no reason for him to smile like he meant it back then.

He'd gotten used to keeping his distance, with friends, with classmates, with his unit members. With the girls he’d dated. With people he’d actively pushed further and further away. Kaoru regrets a lot of the things he did .

He’d like to laugh at the strange solemn depth his thoughts take up sometimes, but true to form he blames it on something else, someone else. He’s spent a long time by Rei’s side, plus another handful by Kanata’s. He sings on stage with local airhead Otogari Adonis and regularly exchanges mean texts and memes with internationally renowned rainer on parades, Sena Izumi. What’s stranger is he’s only just started to realise how much he doesn’t mind this—all of it.

This, when he lets himself into Kanata’s apartment early on a Sunday morning, with a key that had been pressed into his hands with a request he couldn’t deny, not even if his life depended on it. Especially when he pokes his head in the kitchen to say good morning to Kanata, who says ‘breakfast first’ and carefully peels him an orange.

This, when Kanata had asked him to come help feed the twenty-four fish (plus one tremendously ill-tempered eel) he’d amassed in the time they'd graduated and been assimilated into the vast and blinding-bright world of the idol industry.

This, when Kanata lends him a t-shirt when his own is drenched while cleaning out Eel-chan’s tank and he realises it’s his own shirt he’d left behind that Kanata had so carefully made his own. Kaoru from the past would’ve keeled over and died at the mortification. Present Kaoru feels much the same, and the sentiment running this experiment lays warm and soft in his chest.

It’s taken him so much longer to realise he’s allowed himself happiness, slowly making the effort to lean on and be leaned on in return. How could he mind? Admitting various truths to himself is a learned skill he has yet to master but at least he’s not lying to himself anymore.

“I bought those tiny crackers,” Kaoru says, putting away the things he’d brought from the store, “You know, the ones shaped like goldfish?”

“Did you buy the ‘juice’?” Kanata asks, eyes glued to Eel-chan’s tank. He’s conducting himself perfectly well today for whatever miraculous reason and Kanata’s worried he might’ve eaten something bad.

“What does it say about Eel-chan that we’re worried for him when he’s behaving? What does that say about _us?_ ” Kaoru had asked, watching him watch Eel-chan.

“That we’re ‘good parents’ to Eel-san,” Kanata had said. And—fair. Kaoru cared about Eel-chan, despite how mean he could be sometimes.

“Maybe he knows there’s going to be people over for dinner?”

“Kaoru. He’s an ‘eel’. Eels don’t know Rei.”

The first order of business, therefore, is introducing Rei to Eel-chan when he arrives that evening.

“I’m sorry for the delay,” Rei says apologetically when he does arrive, “There was all this endless traffic.”

He plops down onto the sofa with an old-man sounding _oof_. “How have you two been?”

Kaoru rolls his eyes, “I saw you at the studio yesterday, Rei-kun. Don’t tell me you’ve gone senile on us already?”

Rei laughs goodnaturedly and asks after Kanata and all their fish and makes sure to get a lovely (read: blurry) picture of Eel-chan to show to Koga back at home. They spend a good while on catching up on nostalgia and pondering what’s in store for them, just the sweet nothings of typical early-twenties future prospects crossing their conversation now and again.

“It used to be so scary and exciting, the adult world,” Kaoru sighs, “But now we have tax returns and an ungrateful eel child.”

“That may be true,” Rei says thoughtfully, taking a sip of the tomato juice Kanata had so generously poured into his glass, “Hope is the thing with feathers, Kaoru-kun. We must have hope that there exists something more. But I do not mind the stability we have right now, either.”

“Huh,” Kaoru says and then realises he has nothing of substance to add to that. “So much for being the well-adjusted adults we were meant to be.”

“We’re not well-adjusted,” Rei agrees, “But didn’t a certain someone tell me very loudly at 7 am yesterday that waking up and working at that abominable hour is just called being a normal person?”

Kanata laughs and climbs into Kaoru’s lap easily. “We’re ‘people’ now,” he says excitedly, “This is how people do!”

Kaoru flushes and melts a little. He’d just been a bystander when things had fallen by the wayside for them both. He hadn’t been there when he should have, either, when they’d built themselves back up over the years, and they’ve never expected him to be. But he wished he had instead of letting his list of regrets grow longer.

“You’re right,” he finds himself saying, “And we’ll continue to work hard, right? You guys had better not slack off.”

“Finally warming up to the idea of world domination, Kaoru-kun?” Rei teases.

He sticks his tongue out in retaliation, not deigning to reply.

“We’re going ‘swimming’,” Kanata pipes up, sparing Kaoru the need to respond further, “In the ‘summer’.”

“Yeah! It’s weird that Kanata-kun doesn’t know how to swim so we thought it was about time we did something about that.”

“Oh? That’s lovely to what, I’m sure you’re going to enjoy it,” Rei smiles, absurdly fond like he is only when he’s with his kin—not the way he is with his unit, enigmatic and delightfully insufferable, not like he is with Ritsu, all soft-eyed and ready to hug at moment’s notice. Just—fond.

Kaoru wonders how they got so lucky, not just him but all three of them, and all their friends, to have experienced each other’s company in a way no one else will. It’s a sappy thought that Past Kaoru would’ve criticised Present Kaoru for, at any rate.

When Rei finally says his goodbyes later that evening, and they've safely bundled him into a taxi, Kaoru mulls over his words, watching Kanata meticulously say good night to all their fish and to Eel-chan. Maybe he doesn’t mind the stability after all. Maybe Past Kaoru could benefit from learning to make a habit out of this.

⚔️

“Move out of the way, I can’t _see—_ ”

It’s his own fault, Izumi thinks irritatedly. Somewhere along the way he’s made a hobby out of meeting and befriending sun-bright boys against his will and having them eventually take over his life with various devastating results.

“I just wanna say hi to Chiaki!” Leo complains directly into his ear.

“Then fucking say it and _move_ ,” Izumi tells him, seriously considering brute force to reckon with Leo.

“Hi Tsukinaga!” Chiaki complies, grinning at Izumi’s predicament.

“How are you? Not that I’d have to ask ‘cause Sena here doesn't shut up about you,” Leo grins, and dodges Izumi’s swats. “Okay, okay, I’m going! Bye bye Chiaki, don’t do anything to damage Sena! Oh, this is a romance for the ages, I should write a song—”

“You _shouldn’t_ ,” Izumi thunders, ears red with embarrassment.

Leo sticks his tongue out. “I’m going to tell on you to Suo~,” he threatens, like that’s a fair and just punishment instead of just another thing their darling young leader will have to deal with at an abominable hour.

“Yeah, you go do that, I’m sure Kasa-kun really misses you bugging him right now.”

“Sorry about him, you know how he gets. Naru-kun owes me her entire life for bailing out of King-duty today,” he tells Chiaki when Leo's finally out of earshot.

“It’s fine,” Chiaki laughs, “And just now, you didn’t look like you didn’t enjoy having him around.”

“Nonsense. He’s a pain to watch when he’s itching to run around and he doesn’t eat his vegetables.” He pulls the laptop closer, settling down comfortably on the couch. It’s his day off and it’s late back home where Chiaki is but he’s going to make the most of what little time they have together. “Chii-kun,” he squints at the screen, suspiciously eyeing what looks like dark circles, “have you been sleeping well?”

Chiaki lets out an embarrassed laugh, caught red-handed. “We’ve been working later and later, you know? It’s the season finale and all that at the shoot. And—” he stops short and looks right at Izumi, “—I guess it’s a little empty around here.”

And Izumi suddenly misses a warmth he didn’t know he’d wanted to reach out to all this while.

“I’ll be home soon,” he promises softly. It’s only going to be a few more days. He and Leo have to be back at the agency for the idol work that’s piled up on Tsumugi’s desk that he’s been kind enough not to shower them with yet. He’s missed being a knight, truth be told. And he’s missed seeing a real hero.

“What’s the surprise you have to show me? Kao-kun told me it was something huge,” he asks. Kaoru was as cryptic as they come when he wanted to be. He’d texted him early that morning to let him know how ‘Moricchi is finally a bigger deal than you’.

“Ahh, I’d told them to be quiet about it. I wanted it to be a surprise!”

“Tell me now and stop biting your lip, you’re going to hurt later,” Izumi orders, suddenly starved for pieces of Chiaki’s everyday life. He’ll be there soon but he wants to be there now, and he wants to soak up any bits of it he’s offered.

“Okay, okay, wait here. Close your eyes, alright? I’ll be right back.”

He humours Chiaki, feeling a little silly about sitting in front of his screen with his eyes closed.

“I’m back! Are your eyes still closed?” Chiaki asks.

“Yes, now get on with it. Can I open them?” Izumi says, already opening his eyes.

“Ta-da~!” Chiaki says showing off what looks like a sentai figurine, the red guy Chiaki likes very much. He’s caught out, not knowing what he’s supposed to say until he catches the RYUSEITAI logo, tucked away in the corner of the box and his jaw drops.

“Is that—you are—that’s you!”

And Chiaki laughs again, and it's loud, comforting.

“It’s me,” he confirms. “We’ve all got one and I have the whole set! They’re not out in stores yet and they haven’t started advertising them either, I don’t think. But—” the pause when Chiaki looks at him meaningfully makes Izumi think his heart might shatter at the rate it’s beating—”I thought it’d be fine. To show you.”

“You…” Izumi puts his face in his hands, actively not letting the implication of his words settle in. Chiaki is so ridiculous, Izumi thinks fondly, staring at the screen, so ridiculously open and loving. “You’re going to have to put away those properly.”

Chiaki nods happily. “This is a big deal for us, I didn’t even think toy companies would want to collaborate with idols, you know? But Tenshouin came up to us one day and asked if we’d want a deal worked out—we’d covered for fine when he’d fallen ill at an event, and he wanted to repay us for the last minute worry—and we thought it’d be good. I—I wanted something nice. For us. For the team.” Chiaki falters a little like he doesn’t realise all the good he’s done for the world and for his friends.

“This is great,” Izumi assures him, because he knows it’s all Chiaki has ever wanted. And then, while Chiaki continues to chatter happily about other inane work stuff, he wonders a little stupidly, where in his chic, styled apartment _Chiaki: The Figurine_ would go.

🥞

It scares the living daylights out of Kaoru when someone taps him on the shoulder and informs him his disguise sucks.

“I could tell who it was from right over there.” A badly disguised Izumi informs him, pointing all the way to the back entrance. There was no way he could’ve and Kaoru knows this.

“Hey, it looks just fine. I haven’t been mobbed by anyone here yet, I think I'm doing pretty well," Kaoru says, altogether a little too pleased with himself.

Izumi clicks his tongue in annoyance. “Didn’t think you’d make it,” he continues, sliding his glasses up like it helped any with his own disguise.

"Ah, about that. My flight arrived just in time, what a coincidence don't you think? For what it's worth, I didn't think I'd see you here, either," Kaoru says. He'd known, of course, that Izumi would be here because it's RYUSEITAI's big event and there's no way he would pass up the chance to look at Chiaki on stage, lit up brighter than the stars.

After all, Kaoru was here in a similar vein.

RYUSETAI's performance is the last one to start and Kaoru's genuinely thankful to have made it here on time. He makes it a point to attend all Kanata's events if he can. He knows Kanata does the same, even if it’s just because Rei has a nose stuck permanently in other people's business.

Which, all said and done, he's fine with.

This isn't the first time Kaoru (or Izumi, for that matter) has heard this song so it's nice to fall into the rhythm of a familiar song and dance, to mouth along to proclamations of justice every now and then, following along with the performance.

It always surprised Kaoru how Kanata always dances elegantly. Effortless and clean movements make him blend seamlessly into the choreography that binds together the team. On the contrary, every move Chiaki makes displays the sheer effort he's put into it, lighting up the center stage with genuine delight and joy. He’s spent plenty of practices with Chiaki, between shuffle units and just helping each other out when they have time, so he knows it’s because Chiaki’s just the kind of person to pour himself into a performance.

"It's a great performance, right? I missed their old songs," Izumi whispers to him, not taking his eyes off the stage. It's clear who he's watching, uncharacteristically unrestrained and awed. He’d never say this to Chiaki, though, and Kaoru gets it; it's hard not to look when Chiaki's at his best, doing what he loves. And it's funny and endearing to see Izumi's eyes wide in rapture, openly watching the sun his heart revolves around. 

Kaoru's much the same, when it comes to his own heart.

"Yeah. And he's really something else," Kaoru says unintentionally, when Kanata's voice rings with some cheesy sentimentality of justice. And just like that, Kaoru thinks—a little mortified at the depth of his emotion—his own heart compass points home to Kanata, who likely doesn't even know Kaoru's here.

Just when the concert ends and the stage lights start dimming, a sudden tap on their shoulders nearly makes them jump out of their skins.

"Oh, it's just Anzu. What the hell was that?! Make a sound or something!"

She shushes them and yanks them both through one of the several cleverly concealed entrances she presumably has all the knowledge of, considering her ability to pop up anywhere she was needed.

"You should have told me you were coming," she says, leading them through a labyrinth of hallways that opens up into a series of identical hallways. "I would've made arrangements for tickets and seating."

"It's fine, I only dropped in on a whim," Izumi scoffs, like he doesn't do this every time RYUSEITAI performs at a semi-public location he's available to drop in to.

"I didn't think my flight would land on time to make it but hey, at least you missed me, right Anzu-chan? That's all that matters!"

She leads them down the stairs and then up the stairs again until Kaoru’s sure if Anzu leaves them here alone they’ll never get out alive—that is, until she opens a studio door.

“Kaoru!” Kanata says, arms open and smiling, despite the clear exhaustion.

Kaoru lifts him up in a hug. Kanata is sticky from the sweat and is heavier than he looks but he smells like the sea and like home, so Kaoru doesn’t mind it as much in the moment.

“You came back! Welcome ‘home’,” Kanata says happily.

“I’m home,” Kaoru confirms, unable to keep the fondness at bay any longer. He’d missed Kanata, and no amount of phone calls and text messages could mitigate homesickness. It’s no longer an unfamiliar feeling for him but he can’t altogether dismiss its merits; he’s more than glad to be home and feel wanted.

“Hey Hakaze! Did you come to watch the event! Wasn’t it great?” Chiaki asks, beaming across the room.

“Yeah it was great but you know what would be better? If you’d remembered to carry the lunch I made you, stupid,” Izumi comments from where’s he’s not so discreetly looking up from his phone at Chiaki.

In that moment, Kaoru swears, Chiaki had a tear in his eye, as if this wasn’t a fairly regular occurrence. If he’d been younger and didn't know any better, he would’ve cringed and attributed this to Chiaki’s unrestrained flair for the dramatic. But he knows now, what he didn’t know then, how much the presence of a loved one means.

“What the fuck?” Kaoru hears the tall kid whisper under his breath.

“Hey, RYUSEITAI! You were so good out there!” Subaru pokes his head in to say. Trickstar had opened the show, Izumi had informed him earlier, so it makes sense they’re changed out now and dropped by to say hi.

“The others are coming by to say their piece, heads up,” Mao says, poking in his head under Subaru’s arm.

“Sengoku-kun, your frogs are in the studio next to the music room! I found them earlier but I couldn’t find you,” Makoto says, resting his head on top of Subaru’s.

They make a fine set, the three of them at the doorway. And, as if sensing something is about to happen, they take off down the hallway.

“Akehoshi! Isara! Come back and give your old captain a hug then!” Chiaki says, delightedly, chasing after them.

Izumi, not to be outdone, yells after his Yuu-kun and disappears.

There’s a tense silence in the room when Hokuto sticks his head in and says, “Well. Congratulations, that was a really fun performance. Thanks for your hard work, everyone.”

Everyone choruses their thanks back at him, smiling at his uncharacteristic show of awkward familiarity. “Isn’t it nice to not be wanted like that?” He says by way of conversation, gesturing down the hallway his friends had disappeared into.

“ _Hokuto-kun~_ ” A disembodied voice calls the very next second. Hokuto purses his lips and waves a goodbye.

Kaoru blinks. “Does this happen all the time? Is this a regular thing that just happens that no one questions?”

“Yep,” Tetora says, slipping out of his costume boots and into comfier shoes.

“Yes,” Midori mumbles, stretching out on the floor, face down.

“Mhm,” Shinobu agrees, trying to untangle the accessories from his hair. “We should go help them,” he suggests, once he’s done freeing himself of various star shaped clips and necklaces, picking Midori up from the floor like he weighs no more than a couple of grapes. Like this is just another normal thing they do, like brushing their teeth and knowing right from left.

“Goodbye,” they say to Kaoru, “Thanks for coming to watch! Thank you, Shinkai-senpai,” they chorus and leave in a line of little colourful ducklings.

“Your children are so weird,” Kaoru informs Kanata, who simply hums in contentment and kisses Kaoru on the lips.

“Did we interrupt something?” Eichi asks pleasantly, materialising at the door. This studio is cursed, Kaoru decides. He wants to go home. “Where’s everyone else?”

“They… did what you guys here at StarPro do, apparently,” Kaoru says, thanking his stars he has a bunch of good kids and some overly serious peers to deal with.

Eichi nods like he understands. Kaoru gets the impression there’s a deep history behind all of this.

“Kanata~ It was such fun to see you today!” Wataru sing-songs, waltzing in, “I hardly ever get to see you even though we’re in the same place every day!”

Kanata disentangles himself from Kaoru and for half a second, Kaoru hates it and then realigns his thoughts into something resembling common sense.

“Wataru, you were too late,” he chides, “Everyone has left. You only have ‘me’ now.”

“You’re more than enough,” Wataru insists, “Though I heard your Chiaki-kun on the way here. I assume his Knight-san was here too?”

“He was,” Kaoru agrees, wondering if Wataru just knows the comings and goings of everyone around off the top of his head. Maybe his doves are secretly spies.

“Ah, we’ll say hi to them when we inevitably run into them,” Eichi says, shrugging. “I’ll take my leave then.” He waves and Wataru plucks a white rose seemingly out of thin air to give Kanata and kisses his hand goodbye.

“We should go home too, Kanata-kun,” Kaoru suggests.

Kanata smiles at him, mischief alight in his eyes. “Hm? But I am already ‘home’, Kaoru,” he replies, holding him close.

⚔️

Anzu had scheduled the Live Tour with care, ensuring every unit had at least one day off in each leg of the tour, whether it was to rest and recover or go sightseeing. Knights get Saturday morning off, after their Friday night performance. This particular Saturday, though, is special.

Izumi’s waiting in the hotel lobby, waiting for Chiaki to show up while fussing over his appearance before the tiny mirror and trying very hard not to think about last night when Kaoru had pulled him aside after the ensemble set’s encore, innocently asking if he’d mistakenly added RYUSEITAI’s glove to his costume. Izumi had only pursed his lips in displeasure at the nosiness and warned him not to tell anyone but now he’s not so sure if Kaoru had listened. 

What if he’d told Chiaki about it? It wasn’t a huge deal, not to him. Izumi’s own glove looked strikingly similar and it was only one nearly unrecognisable glove, just for him to know the importance of. Even with all the close proximity, it irritated Izumi with how they couldn't be hand in hand and this had been his own private solution. He’d discreetly made sure Anzu had another set for Chiaki at the ready so he wouldn’t be a glove short on stage and Chiaki’s plenty weird on his own; there’s nothing Izumi can do that could remotely rival his sense of enthusiasm for the strangest things.

Yet Izumi finds himself wondering if he’s going to be stood up in the hotel lobby because Chiaki somehow knows Izumi wants to hold his hand. 

How pathetic.

“Izumi! You’re early! Were you waiting long?” Chiaki calls out the second he gets off the elevator. Even with barely any guests milling about, Izumi feels the urge to put his face in his hands and pretend it wasn’t him Chiaki’s yelling for. But it alleviates some part of his worries; he’s sure Chiaki doesn’t know his secret.

“I’ve been waiting ages,” he scolds instead, “What kept you?”

Chiaki looks around before lowering his voice to inform Izumi that Kaoru, who’d somehow snuck in to sleep over with Kanata, had disappeared early this morning and he’d been busy helping UNDEAD and Anzu look for him and Kanata.

“Did you find them? Where were they?” Izumi asks, now more amused now than anything else. 

“Uh, at the indoor swimming pool. I don’t know why we didn’t think to check there first, considering Kanata was with him, you know?”

Izumi did. It fascinated and disgusted him endlessly how Kanata could voluntarily let his skin wrinkle like that. “What did Kao-kun have to say in his defense?” he asks, as they make their way out. It’s a nice cloudy day for casual sightseeing, even if it’s just cafés they’re going to look at.

“He said Kanata wanted to visit the pool and he had time before the Live because there’s no way he’s letting Kanata near a pool when he can’t swim and—hey, did you know Kanata’s going to watch the Live from the audience? That’s so cool, I wanna see our friends up on stage like that too!”

“Maybe think ahead next time,” Izumi says, remembering how hard it had been for him and Ritsu to grab audience tickets to the Live a couple of years ago. “We’re popular enough that tickets are sold out almost immediately and I’ll be surprised if management lets us snag a couple.”

“Yeah,” Chaiki agrees, frowning a little. “It’ll be alright, though, maybe I can ask Tenshouin or Sakuma to arrange a couple? If you’d want to go with me, that is.” Chiaki looks at him and then immediately looks away. The gesture is so endearing it makes his heart hurt. Izumi’s always kept his guard up, not entirely ready to bare himself to the world, not like the way he knows Chiaki is used to doing. But that’s just who he is, the voice in his head that sounds suspiciously like Arashi consoles him, it couldn’t be because he’s never quite let anyone in his head like that, not since Makoto, not since Leo. of course not.

But the way Chiaki says things to him, open and earnest and simple, he’s making himself home in Izumi’s heart all the same.

“Sure,” he replies nonchalantly, ignoring the way his ears burn, “If we have the same days off again, I mean. Can’t imagine spending my time watching Kao-kun make eyes at the audience, though.”

“Mean!” Chaiki gasps, shocked, and then laughs when he realises Izumi’s probably joking, which he absolutely 100% isn’t, Kaoru’s facade has always made him want to throw up, even though he knows Kaoru isn’t like that, not really.

“Where are we going?” Chiaki asks finally, looking around like he was expecting to see a boutique or a shopping complex.

“We’re going to a café Naru-kun mentioned she thought we should go to, apparently there are cats. She said you’d enjoy it.” Izumi has to fight to keep his face neutral, carefully putting all the blame on Arashi, conveniently not mentioning how she and the others had meddled an awful lot in his personal affairs. Chiaki, on the other blissfully ignorant hand, looks like his face is about to split in two.

“I didn’t know you liked cats, Izumi!”

Izumi should hope not. He’s not in the business of showing off his private matters to everyone who cares to look his way. But Chiaki isn’t just anyone and besides, he’d seen Chiaki hunt for a cat day in and day out through their time in high school.

“They’re pretty cute,” Is all he offers by way of explanation, which is enough for Chiaki to launch into an enthusiastic story about the old lady whose cat would run away every other day and he’d have to go hunt her down and make sure she’d eaten and didn’t, like, die on her nth runaway journey.

In return, Izumi finds himself telling him about Little John, Leo’s cat friend, who spends much of her luxurious life with Knights.

“Wow, I wanna meet her!” Chiaki says, excitedly.

“You’re going to spoil her if you do,” Izumi says in mock disapproval before breaking into a smile. It’s hard not to, with all that contagious enthusiasm.

They chat idly about their cats and their friends and, ostensibly, their friends who are also cats until they arrive at their destination—Chiaki in blithe enthusiasm and Izumi watching him, careful to hide the smile that threatens to break into something dangerous like a grin.

Izumi is fond of cats, is the thing. They don’t give him grief the way people do and the ones at the café are beautiful and fluffy and he almost can’t stand the way Chiaki’s holding one, close against his chest like he’s singing a baby to sleep.

“Izumi, do you want to hold her? I’ll go get our stuff,” he offers, watching Izumi watch him.

“Sure. Don’t want any sugar in mine, okay?” he says, holding out his arms. 

The cat seems to enjoy their company, Izumi is pleased to notice. She switches between Chiaki’s lap and his own and threatens to tip over Chiaki’s cup of too-sweet caffè latte in the process. Pacified with just a glare in her direction and a few loving pats that say otherwise, Izumi returns to chastising him for his choice in drinks.

“Well, what are you drinking?” Chiaki asks, taking a sip from Izumi’s cup and immediately gagging.

“It’s a _doppio_ ,” he says, a touch smug, “I wanted to be awake for today, you know.”

Chiaki sticks his tongue out childishly and mouths the word to himself. “You hear that, kitty? This man is drinking a terrible drink for us. Imagine the sacrifice.”

“Ugh, Chii-kun, shut up,” Izumi says, rolling his eyes. “It’s not so bad. And it’s not for _you—_ ”

He cuts off when Chiaki laughs at him. It’s sweet, he thinks, how someone is willing to take the time to know him like this even though Izumi has already given him space in his heart. “You’re so weird. What did you think I’d like to drink?”

“Mineral water?”

“Fuck you.”

Chiaki laughs again, softer this time. “I don’t know! You make your breakfast way too early for me to figure it out. So I wanted to know.” He flashes a big smile Izumi’s way that strikes his heart like hot metal at the anvil. 

Chiaki could have so easily meant ‘I wanted to know you.’

“Idiot. Wake up earlier then and I’ll make you breakfast and coffee without the three packets of sugar you poured into this and still have it be edible.”

A hum. And then—

“Sure. okay. No eggplants in anything though.”

They continue like this, playing with the cat and trading weird facts (“I can touch my tongue to my nose!”) for embarrassing stories of their friends (“One time Kao-kun laughed so hard while drinking water and it came out of his nose, do you remember? Shinkai was there and they made out after, gross.”)

It’s the most mundane date he’s ever been on but Izumi can’t say it hasn’t been a good day. He hasn’t had a normal day in ages—not that those are easy to come by, not with this profession and certainly not with his upbringing. There’s been a lot of burned bridges and weird colleagues and falling off of said burning bridges. Izumi’s a big believer in letting things go because not everything can be saved but Chiaki’s seems to think it’s worth trying anyway, in that ridiculously noble way of his.

But that’s how Izumi has always been, another Arashi-esque voice in his head reminds him, living a life that’s never ceased to be exciting, always on the go, with a new fire to put out. He thinks he might tire of it some day. Not any time soon, of course, but when he’s much older and less willing to climb out of a hotel room window with Arashi and Ritsu to track down a thoughtless Leo so Tsukasa isn’t up all night, sick with worry.

In some ways, Izumi thinks uncharacteristically, knights are heroes too. 

So. He could come to like normal, maybe. Even come to appreciate it for what it offers, if given the chance. The way Chiaki’s fingers curl around his, feels like chance enough.

🥞

They’ve been lying on the floor for what seems like hours now.

The lights are off and the eerie blue glow from Kanata’s fish tanks only adds to whatever relaxing atmosphere he’d been promised. To be fair, the hum from the air pumps and the pitter-patter of the rain outside had lulled them to sleep and now, Kaoru fears, it’s far too late for them to be up so he might as well just go back to sleep. Even Eel-chan is quiet, as if aware of the witching hour.

“Kanata-kun,” he whispers in a sandpaper voice.

“Kaoru,” Kanata whispers back. “Good morning.”

“It’s still very late,” Kaoru insists, tucking his nose into the crook of Kanata’s neck, “Not morning until we see the sun, okay?”

“Kaoru,” Kanata says again, much softer than before, and Kaoru’s eyes snap open.

"Tell me," he asks, hoping his voice doesn’t waver. Kanata doesn't open up often, or at least in ways Kaoru can understand plainly. Some days he thinks their venn diagram of secret sorrows might be almost a circle, odd little griefs they can manage between them, no honesty required. And other days, Kaoru realises in horror, you can make a god out of anyone if you invest enough belief and faith.

"I had a dream," Kanata offers eventually, "I was back in that house."

Kaoru is aware Kanata comes from difficult circumstances, even if he's managed to cut ties with his family. It's not a topic they land on often, Kaoru is still flighty around any mention of the word and Kanata steers clear of it, altogether pretending it doesn't exist.

"I don't want to go back."

Kanata sounds so small, it makes Kaoru want to hold him close. It’s not the first time he’s expressed the sentiment but it’s the first time Kaoru’s seen him so shaken up about it.

“You won’t,” he says, as firmly as he can, searching for Kanata’s hand in the dark.

“‘Promise’?”

“I promise.”

Kanata is quiet after that and Kaoru wants to ask after so many things but he’s afraid of the answers, so he doesn’t. There are days when Kanata feels out of his reach, like there’s nothing Kaoru can do that will make it right, like Kanata wasn’t meant for the land.

“Okay, up.” He gets to his feet and claps, loud enough for it to disturb Eel-chan, who butts his head against the wall of the tank in warning. He holds out his hand, the quiet world closing around his throat, suddenly scared that Kanata wouldn’t take it.

Against all odds: Kanata takes his hand.

“We’re making pancakes, okay?”

“But you said it’s not time to ‘wake up’.” Kanata is adorable when he’s confused, Kaoru curses to himself mentally—even half-asleep, even faraway.

“It’s always time to make pancakes,” he reasons, pushing back every memory of his mother helping him flip pancakes, long after his siblings had gone to bed, a time when all he’d really wanted was his mother to make some time to love him, young and spoilt and happy.

Kanata nods slowly, like he’s chalking this up to another meddlesome dream or one of Kaoru’s eccentricities, which, for the record, were bold thoughts from the man himself.

The kitchen is stocked with just the bare essentials, the very definition of a minimalist kitchen. Izumi had nearly scoffed out a lung when he’d seen it and promptly ordered them a set of blue cooking pots and pans, and had seriously informed Kanata that if he didn’t start cooking actual food and not just fish dunked in a pool of soy sauce, he will die of high blood pressure. Kaoru had suspected that even if that end doesn’t come to pass naturally, Izumi would take it upon himself to make sure it happens. He means well, Kaoru grins to himself, despite his quirks.

He makes Kanata work on the batter with him, asking him to fetch the eggs, to microwave the butter, swiping a smear of flour across his nose when Kanata’s busy whisking the batter. This image of Kanata—sticking his tongue out and flour on his face, stirring batter not meant to be whisked with such vigour—is grounding, like Kanata is here with him, somewhere Kaoru can reach out and hold him if need be.

Kaoru takes over the ladling the batter into the pan, nervous about burning it. He can never quite nail the colour when he makes pancakes himself so he delegates the flipping to Kanata.

“My mom used to make pancakes with me,” he explains when things get too quiet while they wait for the last batch to cook on the stove, “When I wanted to spend time with her, I mean. I guess she wanted to take her mind off stuff like taxes or whatever too, so she’d always humour me.”

He exhales, wondering how to choose his words when Kanata reaches up to hold his face, like he wants to say something too but doesn’t know how. He feels Kanata’s fingers tremble, holding Kaoru carefully, lightly, as though Kaoru might slip away, and Kanata would let him.

 _When things get hard, run away to me_ , he’d told Kanata a long time ago. All Kaoru had ever known was running away. But now he thinks he might want to take a stand and afford himself a fighting chance with Kanata.

They’re both bad at this, Kaoru knows, but understanding each other was a work in progress he’s willing to put in the hours towards, if it meant he could take Kanata’s hand in his and kiss the heel of his palm and each finger in turn. Kanata had needed a hero, once upon a time, a role that had belonged to Madara, to Chiaki, and then to Kanata himself. 

“I told you,” he smiles, “I’ll take care of you, okay?”

Kaoru isn’t a hero.

But not all saving is heroic.

⚔️

Meetings of this scale aren’t as frequent now as they were when Ensemble Square had just been built.

So, logically, there must be trouble brewing. This place causes nothing but trouble, Izumi grumbles on the way.

Representatives of each idol unit find themselves here, seating themselves around in the conference room. There’s already a powerpoint set to run at moment’s notice while the vice-presidents talk amongst themselves.

Chiaki grimaces. “It looks exactly like my college lecture hall.”

Izumi agrees. “This is just like high school but now we’ve somehow given Hasumi more power to lecture us.”

They snicker between themselves and the residual annoyance in Izumi’s system slowly fades. Ordinarily, Tsukasa would attend boring meetings and appraisals but he’s busy with finals this week, much to his chagrin; Leo had volunteered in his stead but Izumi hadn’t trusted him enough to pay attention by himself and had tagged along, complaining the entire time. Chiaki was here, of course, and he’d brought Kanata just in case he forgot to note down something.

“Although I think he only came because he thought Hakaze would be here,” Chiaki says after a beat, as if only just realising.

“Does Kao-kun even have the time?” Izumi asks sceptically, “Isn’t he super busy these days? Hasn’t even called us, his only friends, in days?”

The answer walks in right then, sporting flashy sunglasses and carrying an entire human being.

Izumi clicks his tongue. “Show off.”

Chiaki pokes his cheek. “Don’t be mean! Hey, Hakaze! Come sit with us!”

“You look like you haven’t slept in weeks,” Izumi informs him when Kaoru takes a seat next to them after having handed off Rei to a reluctant-yet-concerned Shu. How he managed that was a feat in itself but Kaoru’s picked up a fair few tricks over the years of being the primary Sakuma Rei wrangler.

“Don’t even ask,” Kaoru shudders, taking his sunglasses off. “I never want to do another modelling shoot again. Don’t know how you manage the early mornings, Senacchi.”

Izumi, of course, lords his years of experience over him.

Chiaki, on the other hand, makes a sympathetic noise and fills him in on the little things he’s missed—he’s good at that, Izumi observes with feeling, if you don’t count the way you get smacked if you’re not careful while he tells you about the latest gossip you’ve missed back at home. Izumi tells them he’ll go grab them coffee, lest Kaoru fall asleep and bring shame to their UNDEAD children.

“We can’t be friends if you’re a mess,” Izumi states.

“Yeah? How do you have literally any friends then,” Kaoru yawns.

Izumi glares at him and then at Chiaki for giggling and queues at the coffee machine. He spends a couple of seconds chatting idly with Tsumugi, who’s managed to escape Keito’s angry frown for the time being. 

A cursory look around the room knits him his idol network. Right in front, he can see Nazunyan with one of his little rabbits, chatting with one of the younger leaders Izumi doesn’t really know too well. In the far corner of the room he spots Hokuto and wonders briefly why Yuu-kun isn’t with him. Wataru is here, trying to wake Rei up and failing miserably. There are lots of new people Izumi isn’t familiar with, too, like the guy Chiaki and Kaoru are talking to.

“Here you go.” Izumi passes along the coffee.

“This is Shiina,” Chiaki hastens to explain while Kaoru inhales his coffee, “You know? The one with the restaurant recommendations?”

Niki laughs. “That’s quite the title but I’ll take it. I’m Shiina Niki, from CosPro’s Crazy:B. You must be Sena Izumi-kun, right? Heard lots about you from these two.”

Izumi shakes his hand and says, “All good things, I expect.”

“Naturally,” Niki says, with a smile. “I wish you guys could say hi to Rinne-kun but he is, once again, MIA.” He doesn’t sound too bothered by it though.

“You’ve got to tie them up and drag them to where you need them to be,” Izumi says, gesturing to where Leo is talking animatedly with Madara. He feels a sudden surge of sympathy for Niki. This guy gets it.

Kaoru interjects, “Careful, Senacchi, your sinful past is showing. We don’t want you to lose any more friends.”

“I’m willing to lose one if that means I can just end you now.”

“No ‘murder’ today,” Kanata says, suddenly materialising out of thin air, “We have to clean the ‘fish tanks’ tomorrow.”

“Can I kill him after?” Izumi asks.

“Maybe,” Kanata says, without batting an eyelid.

“Kanata-kun,” Kaoru begins his most dramatic, teary-eyed speech yet, “I thought you loved me—”

“Hakaze, they’re starting now!” Chiaki interrupts, far too loud for someone shushing someone else. The irony is even louder than Keito glaring at them from across the room.

Kanata pats Kaoru’s head in a show of goodwill and they settle down like the disgustingly in love couple they are, Izumi notes, his own hand curled around Chiaki’s. They’re careful about where they show affection but a little goes a long way, he has come to know. The far back of the conference room is the last place anyone thinks to look, anyway. 

Niki waves them goodbye and sits down a few chairs away with a redhead kid Izumi doesn’t recognise.

“Oh my god,” Kaoru whispers in alarm, “He’s pulling out the whiteboard. What next? Multi-coloured pens—Why did I say that? Of course he has ten different markers.”

Izumi elbows him, “And who gave him the set for his birthday? Idiot.”

The meeting doesn’t take very long; Keito and Ibara are nothing if not efficient at getting to the point: Ensemble Square has reached an anniversary milestone and would like to invite its units to participate in a special Live Festival.

“The details are still up in the air,” Tsumugi apologises in advance, switching slides, “But what we propose so far is doable in the long run. We want all our participants to have the time to prepare.”

They take in questions, after that, with Ibara and Eichi to field them.

“That was two hours of my life I’ll never get back,” Izumi sighs when they’re done.

“You asked like nine of the ten questions raised,” Kaoru says, betrayal clear in his voice, “I thought we were done when Tenshouin-kun was like ‘we’ll let you have all the creative integrity you like Sena-kun’ but then you just had to pick a fight.”

“Senaaaa,” The call comes like clockwork, “Why’d you ask so many questions?” Leo whines at him.

“Yeah? And what about when you’re busy writing a song we’re not allowed to perform because they don’t follow these shitty rules? What about when Kasa-kun finds out you didn’t ask about the important details?”

Leo pouts at him, knowing fully well that Izumi is right.

Kanata pats his head. “It’s okay, Leo, don’t be ‘sad’.”

Leo takes Kanata’s hands in his, pacified for the moment. “Do I know you?”

“No,” Kanata smiles happily.

“Friendship ended with Sena! Now this guy is my friend.” Leo sticks his tongue out at Izumi, who glares at Madara, who hides behind Chiaki.

“Come on, stop teaching him nonsense!”

“It’s a meme, Senacchi,” Kaoru says soothingly, tapping away furiously on his phone. “Can we go to dinner now? I’m starving for something that’s not green leaves with two drops of dressing.”

“Us too,” Madara says, pulling Leo along, “It’s getting reeeeeally late, bye bye everyone!”

“We’re having dinner together? It had better not be that awful place Chii-kun picked last time,” Izumi resumes.

Kaoru waves his phone in Izumi’s face. “I’ve already ordered takeaway, I hope it will be to My Lord Knight’s liking. We just have to pick it up on the way.”

Izumi rolls his eyes. “I thought you were playing _Go Fish_.”

“Nah. I was texting Koga-kun to come pick Rei-kun up. I don’t want to do anything, I’m going to eat so much pasta and lie face down on the couch.”

Izumi blinks. “Where’s Chii-kun?”

Kanata points to where a small crowd has gathered next to the whiteboard.

“Why does he have so many friends,” Izumi groans, “They’ll never let him go. _He’ll_ never let _them_ go.”

“I’ll go get him,” Kanata offers and Kaoru goes with him to double their rescue efforts.

Izumi finds himself alone in a room still full of people. It takes a while to get back into the swing of things, he knows, but of the people present here he’s friends with perhaps only a handful, and regularly keeps in touch with fewer, still. He has his Knights, of course, and he has Chiaki and Kaoru, and Kanata by his side. It doesn’t bother him particularly, he’s picky with what he chooses to invest in and possessive with what he considers his, and where he is right now is fairly where he wants to be. There’s nowhere to go but up, after everything he’s been through. Leo had taught him that. Knights had taught him that. Chiaki had taught him that. 

“Earth to Senacchi,” Kaoru says, waving his hand in front of Izumi’s face.

“We acted as your ‘knights’ and brought back Chiaki!” Kanata says, pushing Chiaki towards the exit.

“Wait, wait, wait, does that mean I was the damsel in distress? I’m supposed to be the hero!” Chiaki protests, “Okay, Kanata, I can walk on my own!”

“Sometimes heroes need to be saved, too,” Izumi reminds him when they step outside. “It's so fucking cold. We shouldn't have left. Chii-kun, where’d you park?”

Chiaki hums, trying to remember. “It was somewhere close, I think by the west gate—”

The rest of his musings are cut off by Izumi’s scarf suddenly winding around his neck. It’s soft and warm and it smells like the expensive perfume he’d modelled for last May.

“When will you learn to dress warmer,” Izumi grumbles, tucking away the ends of the scarf. There’s a faint blush on his cheeks, he can feel it heating up his entire face but he refuses to let Chiaki suffer the cold and fall ill. It only takes the slightest change in temperature and the last time Izumi had witnessed that, he’d decided it was the last time he would ever let that happen again.

“Th-thanks,” Chiaki says—far too loudly for it to be normal and turning far too red for it to be just from the cold—holding Izumi’s hand and dragging him towards the car. 

“Wow, don’t forget to leave some love for us!” Kaoru drawls, like he doesn’t have Kanata pressed right up against him, playing that tap tap game they’re both so fond of.

“I’ll kill you,” Izumi yells back.

🥞

It’s far too cold to be at the beach but there’s no force on earth that could stop Kanata from visiting the beach whenever he pleases.

Not Kaoru after a long, gruelling day at work, that’s for sure.

So here they are, sitting side by side in the wet sand, cold water lapping at their toes, because Kaoru doesn’t trust Kanata to not go off deeper, not with how the season’s on the cusp of freezing.

The water is icy and Kaoru almost whimpers every time a wavelet splashes them. He much prefers the shallow warm water pools and surfing under the summer sun. Kanata, on the other hand, wriggles his toes in anticipation of the next ebb and flow. It’s like the biting-cold water doesn’t bother him at all, staring out into the horizon with that faraway look in his eyes as if waiting, waiting, waiting.

Kaoru curls his fingers into the wet sand.

Being lonely must feel cold. If it’s all Kanata’s ever known, the cold probably encompasses all his life, Kaoru imagines. Water holds memory, Kanata had told him once, like a children’s movie come to life. Kaoru had been half-inclined to disbelieve him but Kanata has never given him reason to.

He wonders what the waves must say to Kanata. Were they welcoming him home, the way Kaoru does when he’s home before Kanata is? Did they call out to him by name like Kaoru does on the phone on nights they’re apart?

Maybe he needs the cold calm after being in the scorching presence of Chiaki’s burning heart of justice and Wataru’s intense grandiosity and the incandescence of being labelled a god and a monster like two sides of the same coin, after working hard, tirelessly, endlessly to keep a smile on everyone’s faces and make their wishes come true. 

Kaoru sighs irritably. The RYUSEITAI folk take their hero philosophy far too seriously for his liking.

All said and done, being a monster isn’t all that bad. Back in the day, he hadn’t spared much thought about UNDEAD’s tenets of being, he’d just thought Rei-kun enjoyed wearing black and the vampire aesthetic a little too much and ended his train of thought right there. But he’d gotten to know them all, despite all his protests and he’d come to find—not quite family, falling somewhere just shy of brotherhood. Monstrous they might be in name but who’s to say for sure? Not Kaoru, who’s seen Rei fall off the sofa while napping, with Koga screaming bloody murder and Adonis had looked on at the chaos with a question mark hovering over his head.

Kanata shifts next to him; he’d brought a blanket big enough for the two of them to brave against the cold with and now here he is, arm pressed up warm right against Kaoru’s, connection as warmth in more ways than one, offering a small kindness until they decide to head home.

His thoughts have been all over the place lately but he’d forgotten he loves the sea just as much as Kanata, wind-stung and gazing out into the sea to calm himself down, marveling quietly at how it’s no longer forlorn experience but something akin to nostalgia. He knows what it’s like to feel lost at sea, he knows how hard it is to be landlocked when all you want is to swim freely. It makes him dizzy to think how he’s braved both, how Kanata’s done the same.

He’d thought it over in the past, how Kanata’s like his anchor when he’s at shore. Now he knows Kanata’s like the wind in his sails.

Kaoru gets sprayed in the face with freezing cold water before he can finish going around in circles inside his head. He glares at Kanata who looks utterly unrepentant.

“Why are you like this,” he whines, curling up like a delicate leaf. “It’s _freezing!_ ”

“Kaoru looked like he was thinking really hard about ‘things’,” Is the flimsy excuse of a reason for why Kaoru is drenched in cold water.

“You’re not wrong but seriously Kanata-kun! We’re going home, I don’t want to catch a cold, okay? You owe me one now, geez.”

Kanata rolls his eyes, clearly a by-product of spending way too much time in the company of bad influences. “You need a ‘bath’ now.”

“And some hot chocolate,” Kaoru sniffs affectedly, half really feeling sorry for himself and half dramatising for both their sakes.

Kanata’s eyes brighten at this, “I learnt a new ‘recipe’ from Nacchan!”

“Is it going to set my throat on fire?”

Too long a pause before, “Maybe not?”

“Not very reassuring, you know? And after you drenched me, too.”

“Hmm maybe you’ll have to think of a way for me to make it up to you?” Kanata says smugly.

Kaoru presses their hands together. “You’re in big trouble, you know that?”

“It’s okay, Kaoru,” he says, smiling, “I’ll take care of ‘you’.”

🌟

Waking up alone isn’t a new phenomenon; even when Izumi is home, he wakes with the sun. Chiaki is a morning person but nothing and no one comes close to Izumi’s impeccable 5 am internal alarm clock.

Chiaki wakes up later than expected the morning after he fetches Izumi from the airport—there’s something comforting in the extra warmth and being relegated to one side of the bed, even if he’s left out of the blanket cocoon. He lays awake in bed, listening to the apartment respond to Izumi’s demands.

He pads into the kitchen and finds Izumi humming a familiar song, one of Chiaki’s own recent solos. 

(Izumi hadn’t been home when it released but Chiaki had sung it for him over the phone. His face had flushed red when asked, quietly thankful Izumi couldn’t see him.

“It sounds… like what I’d expected,” Izumi had said finally.

“That’s good,” Chiaki had responded, not knowing if that was actually a good thing. Branding was important, he knew, so this could only mean good things, right?

“No, I mean… Chii-kun, stop making things so hard!” Izumi’s voice had sounded so far away and Chiaki wished desperately he could see, “I meant the words. They’re the kind of things you’d say. And sing about, apparently. Always the hero.”

“Oh.”

“I liked it, dummy. Reminds me of you. Even when you’re not here.”)

In Izumi’s voice, though, the song sounds different. More intimate, like he’s singing it just for Chiaki.

“Morning,” he says brightly, interrupting Izumi's peace.

Izumi whirls around like he’s been caught red-handed with all the treasure in the world.

“You didn’t hear anything.”

Chiaki’s smile grows in delight. “But I diiiiid,” he singsongs, holding out his arms for a hug.

Izumi doesn’t give in, narrowing his eyes threateningly. He knows Chiaki will just wait endlessly until he does. “Not a word, okay?”

Chiaki kisses him.

It takes Izumi a second to step into vulnerability, like he's slipping into a comfortable set of pyjamas, something he no longer minds about being perceived in, something he's kept close to his heart and guarded with care. 

It doesn’t matter. Chiaki is patient.

Even early in the morning, Izumi's words come out harsh but he never lies; his body knows Chiaki's and yields all too well, and Chiaki knows this when he reaches out to touch the inside of Izumi's wrist and feel his fingers curl around Chiaki’s own, fitting together in familiarity. His favourite thing, though, is when Izumi leans in to kiss him first, his hand over Chiaki's heart. He likes to believe it's not just out of habit—that Izumi does it on purpose, to feel Chiaki's burning heart beat, perhaps in time with his own.

“Long hours today?” Chiaki murmurs in sympathy. It sucks he doesn’t get a day off after travelling so long.

“Not really. Meetings, apparently, because some things can’t be done over email. Soooo exciting.” Chiaki can feel Izumi’s eye-roll buried in his chest. It doesn’t stem from annoyance, though, Chiaki can tell, because this is just how Izumi responds to being happy where he is. “Okay, now let me go, some of us have to go to that godforsaken place and get to work.”

Chiaki obeys, sitting on the sofa and watching Izumi do his hair—not that it requires much attention, Chiaki thinks the cloud of silver looks beautiful no matter what. It’s still very early and he feels his eyes close shut until Izumi prods him awake and lets him know he’ll be back late in the afternoon.

“You’d better have been practicing, Chii-kun” he smirks, “Or I’m going to beat your ass at _Just Dance_.”

“Sure,” Chiaki agrees, teasingly. They’re neck and neck when it comes to competitive games and it always amuses him how Izumi’s always looking to one up him. Plus, if it’s time spent together, he’s not about to complain.

“I left your lunch in the fridge, alright? You’re going to eat all of it, you understand?”

“No eggplants?” Chiaki just wants to make sure.

Izumi rolls his eyes. “No, idiot, I’m not really evil. I really have to go now, see you.”

Chiaki can see, from the kitchen window, where Izumi gets on his bike and leaves. Usually Chiaki would offer to drive them but it’s early enough that Izumi’s certain it’s safe enough to go on his bike. He must miss it, Chiaki muses, and he doesn’t begrudge him that.

He flops down on his back on the sofa, wide awake now, thinking about the step he's going to take. He's pretty sure he wants this but it's only natural to be nervous.

 _hey_ , he sends a text, gnawing on his lip, _are u free in the afternoon ?_

He doesn’t expect a reply this quickly but he’s pleasantly surprised when his phone buzzes.

Hakaze😃: _yeah. i have a lunch meeting though, you wanna hang out @ thyme street??_

He responds in the affirmative and whiles away the morning by checking some emails, being distracted, tidying up the stack of books that lived in the storeroom where Izumi kept his old ballet shoes and their ice skates and extra pillows for when their friends slept over, and being distracted again.

He hasn’t told anyone about this ever since he’d read it in a book he’d bought in the interim period known as between when Izumi Is Here and when Izumi Is Here Again. He’s been thinking it over in secret, a great feat if he says so himself, which he doesn’t, and worries about it all the way until he sees Kaoru that afternoon, making it a point to keep a lookout for Izumi just in case he’s caught in the act.

“What’s up, Moricchi, why do you look so,” Kaoru fumbles for the word, “Secretive.”

“Well,” Chiaki begins, as they walk to their destination, “Remember when we went out to dinner a few months ago to the place down the street and we passed that big jewellery store? They said they do custom pieces as well and I checked their website a few times, wait how many is a few, actually—”

“You’re rambling now,” Kaoru says, scrolling through his phone and almost drops it when the lightbulb over his head blinks on. “Wait, are you saying you placed an order?”

Chiaki nods vigorously.

“A custom order?”

Chiaki nods again.

“Why?”

Chiaki opens his mouth. And closes it immediately afterward, seemingly having lost the god-given ability to explain himself.

Kaoru, on the other hand, has grown extremely good at divining Chiaki’s motives.

“Oh my god, are you going to propose?!” He grabs Chiaki by the collar. “Are you going to propose to Senacchi with a ring you had made especially for him?”

Okay, so maybe not the best at divining but he’s got the spirit. Kaoru sounds a little hysterical which, all things considered, is a relatively positive outcome.

“No, I’m—”

“You’re going to get married, huh. Have you thought about the wedding already? Have you guys talked it over? You know ‘cause you’re idols and everything,” Kaoru stops in his tracks suddenly, eyes wide, “Does he even know you’re proposing?”

“Hakaze,” Chiaki yells and Kaoru obeys. “I’m not proposing,” he continues, quieter than before and pulling Kaoru along with him. “We can’t get married, I don’t think I'm—we’re ready for that, not with, you know how it is. But!”

“But?”

“I got him a bracelet! Kind of like the one he wears for live shows? Yuuki told me a few weeks ago he’d heard Izumi had lost it on the way back to Florence and I thought maybe this could be a nice gift. Or something.” It dwindles into a mumble the longer Chiaki continues. He’d been afraid of this. What if Kaoru thought he was an idiot who was moving too fast? What if he’s made a giant mistake in calling up the store this morning to make sure he could pick it up in time?

“Moricchi,” Kaoru says firmly, like he can read Chiaki’s mind—Chiaki doesn’t put it past him, “I can’t put into words how much you and Senacchi are the same idiot in two halves.”

“W-what does that mean?”

“Nothing,” Kaoru says, rolling his eyes and shooting him a quick, reassuring smile. “Let’s go pick up this bracelet so you can proposition that man. You needed someone to hold you accountable, right? That’s why you called me?”

Kaoru continues his train of encouragements and teasing until they arrive and the bracelet is brought forth. It’s—

“Beautiful,” Kaoru says with a small grin. And it is, in all its muted glory: a simple gold band with a tiny _fleur de lis_ bound to the silhouette of a star in the centre.

“Yeah. He’s going to kill me, isn’t he,” Chiaki feels weak at the knees suddenly. It’s just a gift, he tells himself, you already share a house and bed, you’ve already kissed him and had him say your name over and over like a litany. 

This is just a gift, he’s not asking for everything in return, he’s just—giving.

“Yeah, he is,” Kaoru says, sounding way too happy for his demise. “I’ll miss you. But seriously, I think he’s going to like it.”

“Thanks, Hakaze. Thank you, I really mean it.”

Kaoru waves it off and treats him to fries and soda against his better, fearful-of-Izumi judgement and laughs at his fears until he feels better all the way until he’s home, pacing around until Izumi’s back.

“Hey,” Chiaki says quietly, unconsciously running his knuckles down Izumi’s arm, after they’ve done their due diligence with _Just Dance_. Izumi had eked out a win, which is fair because Chiaki had swiped victory last time. “I have something for you.”

“You got me a present because you knew I’d win, I don’t know if that’s cute or just stupid, Chii-kun.”

He fumbles with the box and almost trips on his way back, Izumi’s eyes glued to him.

“Here,” Chiaki hands him the box, standing a significant distance apart from where Izumi is on the couch. The box is small but not suspiciously small but small enough to be attached to an absurd amount of significance.

Izumi takes it and rips off the gift wrap, impatient to a fault. “Wait, what is this,” he murmurs to himself, looking at the bracelet very hard.

A moment passes, and the two, and Chiaki can feel his palms starting to turn clammy with sweat.

“Izumi? Say something, please? I know you lost the one you wear to live shows and this is custom-made so now you’ll have a better one—”

“Chii-kun, stop,” Izumi says and then lets out a wet sob, and Chiaki shuts up in panic, this wasn’t part of his grand plan which had included a smiley Izumi and maybe a kiss.

“Stop it,” Izumi says again, “You’re biting your lip, idiot.”

And before Chiaki can apologise or move, Izumi crushes him in a hug. It’s not a novel occurrence, they’ve hugged plenty but Izumi doesn’t usually enjoy skinship the way Chiaki does. He hears Izumi mumble something into his shirt but he can’t really tell what it is and he whispers a quick _I really like you_ into his shoulder.

“No you don’t,” Izumi says, still teary-eyed but far more lucid than he’d been five minutes ago. “This—you _love_ me.”

“I do,” Chiaki agrees, nodding, wondering if it wasn’t obvious before.

“Love you too,” Izumi says then, kissing him, “Hate you for doing something so disgustingly cute, but I love you. A lot.” He presses his fingers to the knobs of Chiaki’s spine to emphasise his point and Chiaki feels close to tears himself. “You’re not allowed to tell anyone about this.”

“About the bracelet?”

“No. The crying.”

“It was cute!” Chiaki protests, laughing weakly when Izumi smacks his shoulder before leaning into his space again.

“And you’re a handful,” Izumi grumbles, sniffling just a little, fastening the bracelet around his wrist.

“You have two hands.”

“I take it back, I hate you.”

And Chiaki laughs again, warm and close.

**Author's Note:**

> hey thanks for reading!
> 
> \- the kiramager plushies are [these ones](https://tokullectibles.com/collections/kiramager/products/preorder-kiramager-plushies)  
> \- [the glove thing](https://twitter.com/floralsonnets/status/1317181423401381888) ate my brain for a solid 24 hours until i wrote the scene sorry it had to exist


End file.
